


Come Home to Me

by thethaumas



Series: Micro Fics [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Immortality, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 04:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3714184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethaumas/pseuds/thethaumas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin was always the immortal one, until something happens and Arthur finds himself in possession of immortality awaiting Merlin's reincarnation. </p>
<p>Draco Malfoy wakes on his sixteenth birthday with a massive headache, and learns who he used to be and knows how to find Merlin's new body. </p>
<p>(Impermanent major character death)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Home to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Annabelle asked for prompt 1 off [this list](http://thethaumas.tumblr.com/post/115664739864/15-au-prompts-pt-4) and it kind of got a little out of hand. I will be posting the other prompt fills all together after I finish them up.

He was never supposed to be the immortal one. He’d suspected that by some of Merlin’s magic that he would come back. As long as he was needed, he’d return. Merlin had called him the once and future king, and as someone who had seen the future in those crystals, he knew Merlin had not been speaking metaphorically.

So he had, in a way, expected reincarnation. And when he was called back the first time it had been disorienting and strange.

By the seventh time, it was a bit easier. And Merlin would never be too far in finding Arthur’s new form.

The seventh time though, something went wrong. There was a fight, and this wizard who wanted to be a Dragonlord tried to steal Merlin’s magic-–he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that his reincarnations were tied so heavily to Merlin. But it was, and he was, so when Merlin got panicked and cocooned him in a shell of raw magic he felt electric and more alive than ever. Except then he couldn’t see the fight. So when the raw magic shattered all around him and absorbed into his skin, Arthur had to take a bit to get his bearings.

It was all wrong. The wizard lay crumpled on the ground, defeated. But Merlin was also unmoving on the ground, and even though he already knew before he rushed to Merlin’s side, Arthur wouldn’t believe that Merlin was actually dead. Even holding his still and cooling body, Arthur couldn’t believe it. Merlin was immortal. He was always there to greet Arthur when he returned. Merlin was more dependable than the earth beneath his feet.

And now. Now it was like gravity had shifted and the ground was no longer beneath him anymore.

This time around Arthur wasn’t the one dying and coming back. This time he was the one that stayed. And with a shattered heart and wet eyes he sent Merlin’s body off to the mists of Avalon for safe keeping. He knew he should have given Merlin a proper burial–but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t squash the hope that Merlin would wake up, smiling widely at him once more. 

 

He didn’t notice at first. Arthur was so accustomed to dying in battle that just getting used to living in the aftermath threw him for a loop. What was he to do without a fight to prepare for? Slowly he got reaquainted with the small things in everyday life. As time passed he relearned to have curiosity about the oddities in the world. He started seeking out strange and magical creatures and began to keep journal documenting what he discovered from unknown beings, to blooming plants, he decided to keep it all down.

Part of it was curiosity, part of it was the hope that he could not put out that one day he’d see Merlin again–and he wanted to share everything he’d learned once they were reunited.

It was when he was following the tracks of a large dark creature that he found out. When it turned around at the sound of his footsteps and opened its wide mouth to attack him Arthur rose his arms to protect himself and a magical shield erupted between them, keeping the creature back. Arthur blinked stupidly at the golden threads of magic for a few moments. Those moments were all the ones the creature needed, for it lashed out with its barbed tail and stuck a lethal splitting blow to Arthur’s abdomen.

He collapsed on the ground, hands on his hot and wet stomach, feeling the comforting chill of death coming upon him. But then the magic that had shielded him cradled around him and came out of the hands he had on his injury, and closed up his wounds, healing him. Arthur lost consciousness before he was fully healed, but when he awoke next the sun was low in the sky above him, and despite the cold stickiness of his shirt, his body was fine.

After getting himself safely back to where he was staying, Arthur tested himself out and found that he must have absorbed Merlin’s magic that horrible night Merlin died, for he could feel it humming in his veins now that he was paying attention. He flicked a hand out toward a water jug across the room and it toppled over, spilling the water, before it flew dangerously quickly toward him. Arthur ducked and the jug shattered on the wall behind him, but there was no denying that he had magic now.

Without anything really calling him, Arthur spent the next years training his newfound powers. He sought out all the books on magic he could find, and was pleased that despite his father’s rule, and his own time as King, there seemed to be no end to tomes on wizardry and witchcraft. Arthur travelled and started to learn the way different people, people not from England, interacted with magic. It was around this time Arthur realized he had not aged in years, catching his reflection startled him since he had not expected to look the same–and yet there he was, looking the same as he had that night he lost Merlin–and that was years ago now. The thought had Arthur staggering where he stood, years, and it still felt like he’d only lost Merlin hours ago.  _How could he keep going on? How did Merlin do this so many times before?_

Arthur adapted. Arthur sought out mages, warlocks, high witches, ancient wizards from even before his time. He needed answers, he needed to know if he was waiting for Merlin, or if he was looking at an endless life without the man who gave it to him.

It took years. _Years_. But he finally found a wise old woman whose eyes were pure white and used a gilded scrying bowl to see, who told him that Merlin was coming back. Arthur nearly broke down right in front of her. Merlin would return.  _Merlin would return to him._

She advised him that Merlin would come back as a whole new being and might not remember Arthur, that when the time comes he should disguise himself as a child of the new Merlin’s age and see if he remembered anything.

Merlin was always stronger than Arthur gave him credit for, so in this Arthur trusted he would be stronger than even the old witch thought and he’d remember Arthur. But since he would be born anew, Arthur thought it best to take heed of her advice and disguise himself as a child as well.

It would not be for a long while yet, they still had many years before Merlin would return. The wait felt like a test for Arthur, for him to train his powers ever harder, and for him to survive the wait.

She had told him roughly when Merlin would return, but as it was so long ago now when he had visited her, she could not see specific dates at the time. Arthur didn’t need her to though, for he felt it in the core of his being the day Merlin’s new body was born. He felt like every fibre of his being was alight with excitement.  _It was time._

Arthur wove the spells he had learned and practiced for the last couple of decades around himself. He picked a couple who were trying to conceive, but he could see would be unsuccessful, the man’s dabbling in the dark arts had turned him sterile and he would not have children otherwise. Weaving even more complicated spells around the two of them and himself, Arthur transformed himself into their newborn son, storing his memories in time so when he reached the age of sixteen he would remember everything, if Merlin didn’t trigger the memories first. His looks morphed so he would match his chosen parents appearance, and he planted a seed of an idea in the mother’s mind, to keep a part of his name alive.

He became Draco Malfoy, heir to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain.

–

Draco’s sixteenth birthday was already hell, his father was out of Azkaban, which was a small mercy with the Dark Lord now residing in  _his home_. Now he was getting these awful headaches, and though his mother tried to help him with potions, their stores were limited with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters in their home. Besides, nothing seemed to help. He just wanted to lock himself up in his room and charm everything silent until the pain abated.

Instead he was summoned to the room the Dark Lord had decided would be his throne room, and he knew better than to ignore a summons, no matter how much pain he was in. The moment had come that he had been anticipating for what seemed like forever, and now that it had arrived Draco wasn’t sure he even wanted it anymore. Everything had seemed so certain, so glamorous before, and now it was all muddled bits of gray and awful and Draco just wanted it all to go back to the way it was-–not this. He wanted no part in this. But the Dark Lord offered him an ultimatum, to take the Mark and do his bidding, or he and his parents forfeit their lives. How could he refuse?

The pain was unlike anything Draco had ever experienced before, his mind became a white point of _pain_ before he lost consciousness completely. When he woke it was to his mother stroking his forehead, and his father behind her, shaking his head in shame that his son could not stay strong while getting Marked. Draco wanted to scream at him. Instead, he let out a loud gasp as the pain in his head returned full force and nearly made him vomit.

Then golden threads of magic webbed over his vision and covered in him in a warm and comforting blanket, delving into his mind like sweet fingers, and Draco followed them down,  _down, down_ , to a part of himself he had never known. It was locked away behind something overgrown and lonely, it was cold down in this part of himself, but with the golden threads encouraging him, Draco touched this strange unused part of himself and it burst open in a barrage of light and sound.

_He remembered._

He shuddered against the onslaught of memories of his past lives, of the deep love he had for Merlin. Unaware of his own actions, Draco curled in on himself and started sobbing as he met the memories of losing Merlin, of the years of loneliness. Then of the hope when he learned Merlin would be returning.

Draco sat up in bed, unsure and uncaring of how long he had been out. He knew who Merlin was. _He’d finally found Merlin_. But it was probably too late, the paths they’d set upon in this lifetime were far too opposing, and the ancient Arthur within Draco was disgusted with what side of the war he had found himself on. He felt like he was wearing soiled skin, especially when he looked at his freshly Marked arm. How could he have let it come this far?

Could he still find Merlin within the body he now inhabited? Would Merlin even take him back now?

Draco scratched uselessly at the Mark and came to a decision, sitting in the rumpled sheets of his childhood bed. He needed to help Potter win the war, then, then he could see if Harry remembered anything about being Merlin. His fascination with Harry, his need for Harry’s attention, made a whole lot more sense to him now. Draco supposed some part of him always knew he loved Harry– _Merlin_ , and now he just had to figure out how to get Harry to see that.

Working as a spy probably would have seemed impossible if he did not have the length of memory of his time as Arthur. Still it was difficult to return for sixth year and see Harry, knowing he was Merlin, and knowing that because of his own actions they had this ocean between them now. Draco–he still thought of himself by the name he’d planted in Narcissa’s mind, because while he could remember doing all those things Arthur had done, they felt like actions taken by a completely different person. He was Arthur, but he was still Draco. And he needed to find a way to convince Harry that he was working on his side now.

It turned out to be easier than he thought to get Harry alone, he’d somehow sparked Harry’s suspicions and Harry thought he was being sneaky tailing him. He might have been, if Arthur’s experience hiding and tracking others wasn’t so accessible in Draco’s mind now. He was still pretending to work on a way to get the Death Eaters into the school, even though Lucius and Narcissa were not really his parents he needed to find a way to keep them safe from Voldemort before he could stop drawing out his task. And drawing it out he was, finding the weak points in Hogwarts wasn’t that difficult now that he had his memory back, and figuring out how to fix the vanishing cabinet seemed like child’s play compared to some of the magic he had already done as Arthur.

Once he realized he had Harry dogging his footsteps, Draco tried to make himself seem even more suspicious so maybe Harry would get bolder and actually try to face him. While he could tell Harry was nearby, the part of him that woke up when Harry was born hummed whenever he was near, it seemed Harry still hadn’t decided what to do with his suspicions. It looked like it would be up to Draco.

They were up outside of the Room of Hidden Things, Draco could sense Harry nearby, but he couldn’t see him thanks to his invisibility cloak. Draco paused outside where he would usually pace to get the door to appear and looked behind him to where he was sure Harry was standing.

“Are you going to stand there like a coward and just wonder what I’m up to?” Draco called teasingly over his shoulder, knowing the barb would infuriate Harry.

There was a moment where nothing happened and Draco was almost sure he was wrong, that Harry wasn’t anywhere nearby. But then he appeared in a fluttering of robes, face set and angry, pointing his wand at Draco. “If anyone’s the coward here, it’s  _you,_  Malfoy. Or are you not about to go work more on some mission you’ve been assigned by Voldemort? Do you like crawling on your belly for a madman?” Harry yelled, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.

Draco couldn’t stifle the smirk that spread across his lips, he took an unnecessary look at the hall around them and stepped closer to Harry. “Do you want to see?” he asked, smiling with his teeth. “Do you want to see how he plans to bring down this school?”

Harry’s eyes sparked with curiosity, and then shuttered with suspicion. “What are you on about, Malfoy?”

“I know you’re just burning to know,” Draco couldn’t help adding a little sing-song to his tone. He really just needed Harry to come with him into the room, where he knew they wouldn’t be disturbed, and then he could try to get Harry to see they were on the same side.

Harry narrowed his eyes in a glare, but took a step forward and Draco knew he’d won, Harry was far too curious about him to walk away now. “If this is some kind of trap–” Harry started.

“It’s not,” Draco said immediately and held out his wand for Harry to take. “Look I’ll even let you hold this, okay? Just come with me.” He wasn’t worried if Harry tried anything, he had no wand when he first learned magic all those years ago, and he had been practicing without one for months now.

“All right,” Harry said with a nod and took hold of Draco’s wand gently. “Show me, then,” he said and nodded toward the wall.

Draco nodded and quelled the urge to smile, it wasn’t time now. Harry had no memory of being Merlin, he was nearly certain of this, and Draco  _could not_  scare him away. He turned toward the wall and thought of needing the place where everything is hidden, and after a few passes in front of the wall, the familiar door appeared. It opened easily as it ever did, except this time he looked back at Harry and motioned for him to go in first, Draco wasn’t sure if it would let Harry enter after him.

Once inside it was as it always had been, a maze of towering lost and forgotten items. Harry shuffled in a few steps into the room and stopped, turning around to regard Draco with a frown. Draco shut the door behind them with a click and then, catching Harry’s eye, he led them down the winding pathway to where the vanishing cabinet stood.

“What is it?” Harry asked, walking around the cabinet in a slow circle. “Something to trap Dumbledore?”

“No, it’s not to trap someone inside, it’s to let people pass through,” Draco explained and opened the cabinet up. It was dark and musty inside, and so far he had only fixed it just enough to make it look like he was struggling with it, but still trying, so he could send inanimate objects like apples through–but nothing alive.

“Death Eaters, you mean,” Harry said shortly, rounding the cabinet to face Draco. “Why are you telling me this anyway, Malfoy? You realize I’m going to stop you from completing this now, don’t you?”

“There’s not much to stop right now, Potter, the cabinet is broken. I am supposed to fix it so humans can pass through.” He leaned in closer to Harry, his entire being humming in satisfaction at their proximity. “It really wouldn’t be difficult to do, if I was actually trying.” Draco said and watched as Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “You see, Potter, The Dark Lord will kill me and my family if I do not do this and complete the rest of my task–-and I’ve always found I rather work best when I’m not being threatened with murder.” He closed up the cabinet and leaned against it, smirking at Harry. “Out of everyone, I figured you’d probably understand that,” he said and looked down to examine his nail beds, trying to look far more casual than he felt right now.

“I’m not sure I follow you, Malfoy,” Harry said stepping closer. “Are you telling me you  _don’t_ want to do his bidding?” Harry asked, tone belying his skepticism. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” Draco asked, finally looking up into Harry’s piercing green eyes, and he was reminded of the deep blue of Merlin’s that he saw in memories. And all he wanted in that moment was to be close to Harry, like they used to be. The road ahead of him that led there seemed so long it was fathomless. How could he ever convince Harry to trust him? And how could he get Harry to remember? Empty loneliness was rooted in his gut, and even though he was so close to being with the other half of his whole again, he was still so far it almost seemed impossible.

Harry was eyeing him carefully and said, “A bit, yeah. What made you change your mind then?”

_You._  Was Draco’s immediate mental reply, but he bit his tongue to keep it in. “You could say I had a change of priorities over the summer,” he said instead.

“Okay,” Harry said, regarding Malfoy as he crossed his arms over his chest. “So walk me through your plan then.”

“This is pretty much it,” Draco said with a small laugh, he really hadn’t thought farther than getting Harry to see they were on the same side. A frisson of fear tore through him, while he knew with the two of them together they could likely vanquish Voldemort, he was pretty sure there was information he was missing–and how could he let it get this far without a plan on how to get them both out of this alive? Planning was what he did well, and here he was floundering.

Harry frowned, “Doesn’t seem like a very good plan then.”

“No, but I figured I could hold off his ire at least until you could come up with a good one.” Draco shrugged and leaned heavier against the cabinet.

“All right, maybe. I’m not really great at planning,” Harry said with a shrug of his own and the shot Draco a probing look, “I don’t trust you Malfoy, and I’m going to have to, aren’t I?”

Draco nodded quickly, “That would be easier.”

“I heard that your mother made Snape take an Unbreakable Vow, would you do that with me?” Harry asked, his face a serious mask.

“I knew you’d been stalking me,” Draco said gleefully, but quickly sobered at the look Harry wore. “Yeah, yeah we can do that. We’ll need a witness though.”

Harry blinked at him in surprise, it was obvious he had not expected Draco to agree so readily. Really though, Harry could probably ask anything of Draco and he’d do it, just for the chance to taste the happiness they had together so long ago. It was probably for the best that Harry did not know this though, not now. “Uh, wow, okay. Yeah, yeah we can get Ron to do it. Really? You’d really take one with me?” Harry was looking at him, completely shocked and it reminded Draco of the memories of Merlin, always surprised by the support of his friends. Merlin was both so like Harry, and yet, they were so different too, and Draco’s heart just ached to look at him.

“Yes, I’m on your side Potter, I’ll do what it takes to get you to trust me.” Draco said while meeting Harry’s gaze with his own assured one.

Within the next few hours he vowed he would not betray Harry, and would work by his side to bring Voldemort down–both of which he was going to do anyway, but the bindings of the vow fell over him in a comforting wave, now Harry knew he wouldn’t betray him and that he was serious about changing his loyalties. He could only hope that somewhere along this road they were on together now, Harry could learn to trust him.

—

It was difficult for Draco to work alongside Harry, in ways he had not anticipated. It wasn’t hard to get past the way he had learned to think from his father, he’d already done that centuries ago with the way his real father taught him to fear magic–-getting past Lucius Malfoy’s prejudice and hatred was much easier. No, it was working so close to Harry, and still feeling the chasm between them. Sometimes they would be planning with Ron and Hermione-–and he called them that now, at least in his head, none of them were ready for him to cross that bridge vocally yet–-and he would look over to Harry to share a joke, or Harry would say something magnificent, and then he would give Draco a strange look, like he couldn’t understand why Draco would ever grin at him like that. It was hard planning to fight in a war side-by-side with Harry, but feeling that lack still, where he used to be side-by-side with his warlock. And even though he had his own magic now, he knew it paled in comparison to what Merlin could do.

They figured out a way to keep Narcissa safe without arising Voldemort’s suspicions. Even though they had found a way to get her out of the country, she refused as long as Draco remained. Lucius was another matter entirely, but Draco couldn’t feel much remorse for the man, it was more important to him they kept his mother safe. Dumbledore had advised them to keep Draco’s alliances secret, and so he worked with them only in the Room of Requirement, as Harry liked to call it, and tried to learn anything useful from the Death Eaters. He wasn’t a very useful spy, he found.

And then Harry got the memory from Slughorn and they learned what they were really dealing with-– _Horcruxes_. Draco felt a cold chill go down his spine at the word. He’d come across it many years ago, when he’d first started reading magical tomes, it was described more in theory, figuring no one would be that desperate for the half life immortality that the horcruxes would offer. That the younger Tom Riddle was so desperate, so egotistical to even consider it–-much less actually split his soul so many times-–was nearly unthinkable.

Yet, the evidence was clear, and that made all of this even more difficult.

The cabinet was fixed, and the Death Eaters seized Hogwarts–-except all the students had been safely evacuated beforehand, Draco refused to fix the cabinet completely until Dumbledore agreed to the evacuation. He would not endanger the students. And then the moment came that they had prepared for, discussed, and planned.

Arthur had killed in battle, he had split bodies open with his sword. Draco had not, and staring down the length of his wand at Dumbledore’s feeble form, he couldn’t do it. He could only disarm the old man before Snape swooped in and said the spell to kill him. Draco clutched Dumbledore’s wand in unfeeling fingers, watching his body fall and thinking of Harry who was somewhere nearby, having to see the same thing. He still didn’t know there was so much more to him, he could still only remember this life, so Draco knew the loss of his mentor would cut him deeply, even though he’d known it was coming. He wished fiercely that he could rip the cloak off Harry and hold him close. But that would neither be welcome nor beneficial to their plans.

Instead he gripped Dumbledore’s wand tighter before dropping it and letting Snape hurry them out of the castle. They had to run and they had to run  _now_.

With every step he took that furthered him from Harry, Draco’s legs felt more and more like lead weights. But he had to continue, they’d planned this. Draco needed to stay with the Death Eaters to see if he could learn anything about the horcruxes, and so he would even though his whole being was crying out for him not to let Harry go. Not to let  _Merlin_  go, not after it took so long just to find him again.

—-

Being apart from Harry was gruelling enough, but having to pretend he was on Voldemort’s side, and behind his sickening plans, began to wear on Draco. He had to power through though. At least he wasn’t completely cut off from the efforts of the other side. Before that fateful night on the astronomy tower, Hermione showed him the the galleons they had charmed for the DA, and Harry gave him one that only Harry had the twin to–-which seemed very fitting to Draco. It helped him feel far less alone being able to speak with Harry through the secret coins, and it kept both of them informed so when Draco found out Bellatrix had the cup he could let them know so they could go destroy it.

He’d never fought a war that involved so much scavenger hunting before, the tedium of it nearly drove him up the wall. But then Harry sent a short message that chilled him nearly as much as the horcruxes had:  _Deathly Hallows??_  He’d read about the myth of the Deathly Hallows, of course, but since Arthur was a being of legend himself, he tended to place a bit more faith in the reality of myths than most. They might not have had the power to make one a master of death as the story claimed, but they likely held some kind of power, and if Voldemort was after them as well, all they could hope to do was to find the three before he did.

Harry’s cloak, the only true invisibility cloak that he had ever seen, was likely one of them. It was the other two which worried Draco. How could they even search for the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone in addition to finding all the bits of Voldemort’s soul he’d left lying about?

Even though they seemed to be making headway by destroying horcruxes, it seemed it wouldn’t be enough, and Draco was sick of it. They needed to move  _faster._  All he cared about right now was defeating Voldemort so he could make time to be with Harry.

And then, finally he got the message from Harry that took a few turns of the coin to appear fully,  _It’s the snake and something of Ravenclaw’s. Meet us at Hogwarts._

Arthur had been in many battles, but he had nearly always had Merlin at his side. This time he could hardly find Harry at any given moment. This time there was a prophecy over Harry’s head and Voldemort issued an ultimatum over the school. This time Draco didn’t know what to do to keep Harry safe.

He was running through the castle, trying to find Harry anywhere, trying to find a way to help him. Just after making it through the castle gates he felt the galleon burning in his pocket. He nearly ignored it, but knowing that it could only be Harry he pulled it out as he kept running. All it said was,  _I’m sorry_. Draco nearly lost his footing ducking an errant spell, but he swiftly found the ground again and kept going feeling like he was losing air and unable to swallow any more down.

Harry’s energy was calling to him, he was somewhere in the forest and Draco knew,  _he knew_  he had to get down there as quickly as he could. He slipped and skidded down the hill leading to the forest, ignoring the pandemonium around him, none of it mattered. Harry mattered.

And then suddenly all the air was ripped from his body and Draco tipped forward and fell into the mud.  _Harry was gone_. All that energy that called to him, that hummed when they were close, vanished in an instant. Draco couldn’t catch his breath, every time he tried it came out gasping and he couldn’t bring in enough to feel like he was really breathing.

He was too late. Harry was gone. Merlin was gone,  _again_.

Draco’s fingers twined into the slippery earth he’d fallen down into and he let out a loud, frustrated scream that tore at his throat. When he could scream no more he hunched over himself and was overcome, sobbing over losing Harry again. He didn’t know if he could live through waiting for Merlin to return again. They didn’t even have any real time together this time, it just wasn’t  _fair_.

Then, just as he was running out of tears-–he was gravely dehydrated already-–that spark inside of him that flashed alive when Merlin was born into Harry lit up again. Draco gasped and clutched at his chest, convinced he was imagining it. He was sure he was trying to lie to himself, unable to deal with the loss of him again, Draco was trying to convince himself he hadn’t really lost Harry. Despite his drying eyes, the sobs came ever harder now. Draco couldn’t bear it. He didn’t know how Merlin got through it all those other times, this was too painful to keep going on after.

A procession of black robes emerged from the forest and Draco stilled where he was on the hill partway between Hogwarts and the Forbidden Forest. His heart was in his throat as he watched them head toward him, he could tell Hagrid walked among them and he wondered what that could mean.

As they neared he could make out that Hagrid was holding something in his arms.

No not something,  _someone_. Draco did not think his heart could have shattered any more at this point, but seeing Harry’s limp body in Hagrid’s arms set all those pieces afire, burning them to cinders.  _No_. The denial ripped through Draco’s entire being and he launched himself off the hill and down toward the oncoming Death Eaters. No. He would not let Harry die like this. No. He would not let them have him. No. He would not let Voldemort win like this. No. Harry could  _not be dead_.

One of the black robed figured broke off from the others and hurried toward him, enveloping him in an embrace before he could give himself away by rushing to Harry’s side. His mother held him tight to her, kissing his face and crying.

“Draco,” she breathed between kisses and sobs, “Oh Draco, I thought I’d lost you,” she was smiling, a small lovely private thing that warmed him even now. Then she leaned forward, pressing their faces together so she could whisper so quietly he felt the movements of her lips against his ear more than he heard the words, “ _He’s alive._ ”

Draco pulled back from his mother to blink at her stupidly for a moment before she slipped her hand into his and gave him a stern look. Then she said, “Come along dear, the Dark Lord must share the good news of Potter’s demise with the school.”

He let her drag him up the hill, following on autopilot. He was  _alive. Harry was alive_. Draco hadn’t been imagining the lit up spark inside of him. Harry was alive. He felt like he could burst in elation.

Quickly, he snuck a glance over at Hagrid who was outright bawling over Harry’s prone form in his arms, and he wondered what Harry was planning now. 

When they reached the courtyard where much of the battle had migrated to, Voldemort demanded everyone’s attention, triumphantly claiming that he had killed Harry Potter, that he would be merciful should those fighting gave themselves up now. No one stepped forward.

But then Neville Longbottom stared straight at Voldemort with hatred radiating from his entire being and said how it didn’t matter that Harry was dead, they could still fight, and they would. Then he picked up the sorting hat, looking at it funny before he pulled a glinting sword from the hat and the Arthur inside of Draco felt a longing for his own trusty sword. He’d have to find it again after all of this.

Then Harry rolled out of Hagrid’s arms and ran to Neville’s side, and chaos overtook the courtyard once more. Draco squeezed his mother’s hand before he broke away from her and ran straight for Harry.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Neville fighting with Nagini, and slicing her head off in a vicious strike. His focus was on Harry though. Harry alive and standing strong. Harry practically glowing in the sunlight of the waning day. Harry turning toward him, eyes widening, and then softening in a way Draco had never seen in this lifetime.

The battle was raging loud around them and Draco couldn’t even be bothered because Harry was stepping toward him until they had nearly no space between them, looking at him like he’d hung the stars and moon especially for Harry.

“It’s you,” Harry said in a whisper, smiling around the words. Draco felt like a part of his heart sewed itself together right then, he didn’t need to ask, it was obvious, _Harry remembered_. Harry reached out to run a hand through Draco’s hair, “You look different though.”

Draco couldn’t help the joyous laugh that came out as half a sob as he threw himself at Harry, wrapping him tightly in an embrace, determined never to let Harry slip through his fingers again. “Yes, it’s me.” he said, voice rough and eyes wet. When he pulled back to look at Harry, he could see his eyes were just as wet. “We’ve got a war to win now, but we’re not done here.” He said, knowing that they needed to deal with the battle around them before they could do anything else.

Harry stiffened and set his jaw, “Right.” He looked at Draco wonderingly for a moment and said, “You’ve magic now, yeah?” Draco nodded, knowing they’d have everything to talk about later. “All right, so together then,” Harry said and grasped Draco’s hand in his in a tight hold and then turned to face Voldemort with Draco right at his side.

—–

After, among the rubble and people patching each other up, Harry still would not release Draco’s hand and Draco wasn’t going to complain at all. Once they’d both reassured themselves that the people they cared for made it out relatively unscathed, Harry pulled Draco away from the crowds and up to a silent corridor.

He pushed Draco up against the wall, wrapping his hands around his shoulders and he studied Draco’s face. “I can’t believe it’s you,” he breathed around a smile. “I can’t believe we’re both here.”

“How’d you remember?” Draco asked the question he’d been burning to for the last hour, trying to find the answer in the color of Harry’s eyes or the scratches on his face.

Harry looked away from him then and winced, “When I died,”

“You  _died_?” Draco hissed and reached up to grab Harry’s face, needing to reassure himself that Harry was there, even though Harry was still holding his shoulders. He’d been right, he  _had_  lost Harry today. Only he’d come back much faster this time around.

“Yeah,” Harry said looking entirely too apologetic, and they would need to talk about this later, Harry needed to stop dying on him. “I went to this train station where there was the bit of Voldemort’s soul he put inside of me by mistake, and Dumbledore, but there was someone else there-–someone who I didn’t know but was so familiar.” Harry let out a small laugh, “Turned out he was me, but me before, you know? When I was Merlin.” And now he shook his head in disbelief. “All I ever wanted was to just be Harry, and it turns out that I was never just going to be just Harry, was I?”

“You? Be anything but something extraordinary?” Draco couldn’t stop smiling, it was making his cheeks ache and he couldn’t care at all. Harry was with him. Harry was alive. Harry remembered. “Pretty sure that isn’t possible.” He happily stroked his fingers over Harry’s cheeks then knotted them in Harry’s hair-–it was even more of a mess than when he was Merlin, and Arthur and thought his hair couldn’t get any worse.

Harry ducked his head, a smile playing at his lips. Then he looked at Draco in confusion, “How did you remember? I don’t understand how you got here.”

“Oh,” Draco reddened a bit, “I’ve known since I turned sixteen. When I disguised myself as a child to be with you I locked my memories away until I reached that age.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter and shifted to wrap his arms around Draco in a tight embrace. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I couldn’t figure out how to make you trust me, much less how to get you to remember anything,” Draco lamented, and let Harry wrap around him, he couldn’t help pulling him ever closer anyway. Finally he had Harry in his arms and it was just as good as he remembered. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” Draco said with a thick voice as he buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck. “I don’t know how you waited for me all those other times, it was  _torture_  just waiting for you this time.”

“You always were so impatient,” Harry said with a soft chuckle, a hand coming up to run through Draco’s hair. Then, his words even quieter, “I’m sorry I took so long.”

Draco nodded mindlessly, just happy to be with Harry again. He could feel the hot prickle of tears in his eyes, and his breath came in shuddering bursts. It had been so long, and he’d been so scared for so much of it that he would miss the chance–-

Harry pulled back and cupped Draco’s face in his hands, “Hey, we’re here now, it’s okay Draco.”

“I know, I know,” Draco said around another laughing sob. “Just don’t ever fucking leave me again,” he said, searching Harry’s eyes for a moment before he leaned forward to gently press their lips together. When Harry gripped him tighter, pulling him closer, Draco couldn’t help devouring his mouth and kissing all his worries, fears, and longing into Harry’s mouth.

Harry kissed him back just as fiercely, his fingers pressing bruises into Draco’s skin, his teeth biting into Draco’s lips. When they pulled back, Harry’s eyes were alight like they were once upon another lifetime, and he was grinning at Draco, “I’m not going anywhere this time, I promise.”

“Good,” Draco said fervently, and then he pulled him into another long overdue kiss. He wasn’t going to lose Harry again.


End file.
